


exclusive! breaking news!! nightwing captured and fucked

by Anonymous



Category: DCU
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Community: dckinkmeme, Gun Kink, M/M, Oral Sex, Public Humiliation, Rape/Non-con Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-12
Updated: 2020-11-12
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:01:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27525793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Dckinkmemeprompt:In a situation of your choosing, Dick gets captured (as Nightwing or Robin) and the men who got him force him to give a blowjob to a gun.
Relationships: Dick Grayson/Other(s)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 41
Collections: Anonymous





	exclusive! breaking news!! nightwing captured and fucked

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: RAPE/NONCON. gunplay, threat of death, degrading language, some nonsexual violence (mostly towards beast boy, sorry gar)

“Go on.” The faceless goon waves his gun in front of Dick’s face. “You got about three seconds, honey, or we’re gonna start getting nasty.”

Dick wants very badly to spit in his face, but he can’t quite work up enough saliva in his dry mouth. There’s three men on him, not including the asshole with the gun pointed at his teeth: one with his weight trapping Dick’s legs, one pinning his arms behind him, and one yanking his head up by the hair.

Has Dick been in worse situations before? Probably. Can he think of one of those right now? No.

“Three,” says the man. “Two.”

Gar shouts from the corner where he’s crushed under three goons of his own. “Leave him alone, you fucking creeps. Let go of—” One of the men on him brings a foot down into his stomach and Gar cuts himself off with a kicked-puppy squeak.

The man with the gun says, “One.”

Dick glares at him. The man opens his mouth, but before he can speak there’s a ragged yell from Gar’s side of the room.

“Little bitch bit me!” someone yells, holding his arm to his chest. “He fucking bit—”

The man with the gun visibly loses his patience. “If he does it again, shoot him in the head.” His voice echoes in the room, and a horrible silence follows, broken only by Dick’s own breathing. The man continues, “Now. Where were we, Nightwing?”

“Don’t ask me,” Dick said. “This is your—”

Opening his mouth to speak was a very predictable mistake, because the man grabs his jaw and shoves the gun between his teeth. With him and the hand in his hair, Dick can’t move.

“Ah, that’s better.” Blunt fingernails dig into Dick’s cheeks. “Don’t think for a second I believe that little ‘innocent’ act, either. Look at you.” The gun tilts, forcing Dick’s head further back. Dick tries to straighten up on his knees to ease the strain, but the men holding him down don’t let him budge. “This is natural for you, isn’t it?”

A harsh breath escapes Dick’s nose. He’s certainly been in worse positions before, he tells himself. He’ll get out of this one, like he has before; if he doesn’t get out of it, he’ll survive it anyway.

“Oh, Nightwing. I don’t like fucking up the pretty ones. Ask anyone.” There’s a murmur that goes around the mob crowding the room, the people who take a paycheck from this no-name asshole. “But if you don’t show me you can play nice, I’m gonna have to cut my losses.” He leans in, dirty breath on Dick’s face. “That means I’ll kill you. And the other one. What’s his name?”

Dick’s teeth scrape against the barrel of the gun. He hasn’t heard Gar say anything for a while, and can’t cranes his neck to see him. He tries to shake his head, to get any inch of leverage so he can speak, but he can’t move. Laughter peals up around him as all of his struggling amounts to nothing. Someone says, “We get to fuck him first, though, right?”

That—

That sends a cold shudder through his entire body. It must show on his face because the man with the gun lights up.

“Listen, honey. Are you listening?” He taps Dick’s cheek. “We’re gonna fuck you no matter what.”

Someone whistles.

“Man, there’s some fucking perverts in this room.” The man looks delighted about it. “Don’t think you’re saving yourself by making me kill you. Start showing me some of that sugar, and you’ll live through it.”

He drags the barrel of the gun out of Dick’s mouth slowly. He leaves just an inch on Dick’s tongue and meets his eyes for a long moment, before drawing it out completely. It stays pointed at Dick’s face, level with his mouth.

Dick works his jaw for a moment. Then he spits in the man’s face.

The moment is suspended for a moment, and then the man grins and wipes his cheek off on his sleeve.

“Get his dumbass suit off,” he says.

The goons around Dick spring into action. Two of them shove him face-first onto the concrete. The man kneeling on his calves shifts slightly, igniting needles of pain in his legs, and there’s the rough point of a knife sliding along the material of his suit at the back of his thigh. Dick shoves his elbow back and it cracks against bone—someone’s face, hopefully—but then the full weight of an adult presses his arm down to the floor.

There’s a loud rip, and then it’s pretty breezy down there, and—Dick didn’t think that the man was bluffing with his threats, exactly, but his head is spinning and he can’t process what’s happening, it’s all coming so fast.

Gar starts yelling.

Good, he’s okay, Dick thinks.

“—the fuck alone, don’t touch him! I’ll—”

“I thought I told this one to shut up.” There’s the sound of a blow followed by a yip, and then another blow, and another. Hands worm their way under Dick’s ripped suit, warm fingers against his bare thighs, and one wrenches his pinned legs apart.

“Stop,” Dick yells. “Stop it!”

“Too late now,” someone at his back scoffs.

The man with the gun walks into Dick’s field of vision. “Wait.” Everyone stops. “You wanna save your life?”

The hand pressing Dick’s temple to the concrete doesn’t let up, so he can only strain his eyes to look the man in the face. “Let Beast Boy go. And I’ll do it.”

“What—!” Gar protests immediately, but it sounds like he’s speaking through a mouthful of gravel. His own blood, maybe, and some knocked-loose teeth.

Dick sets his jaw.

The man looks contemplative. “Who? Oh.” He looks at some blood on his knuckles. “Beast Boy? He’s worth that much to you?”

Dick tries his best to shrug nonchalantly. It doesn’t work, pinned to the floor as he is. “What do you want, a couple blowjobs? Man to man, you could get it for a lot less.”

He laughs. “Not from that mouth, though, honey. That’s what I want.”

“I said I will,” Dick says sharply. “Let him go and I will.”

The man taps his finger to his lips theatrically. “How many blowjobs is his life worth? I got a lot of guys here, you see.”

“Nightwing—” Gar says desperately.

“What else do you want me to say?” Dick grits out. He’s not going to beg them for the privilege of getting rapes by them. He’s not. That’s a step too far, there’s got to be something they can’t get out of him.

“It’s not what I want you to say,” the man says. “It’s what I want you to do. Heave him up, boys.”

They resettle Dick up on his knees with his head securely held in place. The lower half of his uniform is in tatters; he can’t look down to see the state it’s in, but he can feel cold air slipping against his skin. He can see Gar, blood on his face. One of his arms is held protectively to his chest, and he only has two guys working to hold him down now. They don’t bother with touching the obviously broken arm.

The man positions the gun in front of Dick’s face. He touches it to Dick’s bottom lip. “Show me, baby.”

“You let Beast Boy go first,” Dick whispers, trying to move his lips as little as possible.

“Nuh-uh. And let him bring your whole team down on our heads? No, honey. But I’ll tell you what I can do. Give us all a real good show and then green kid over there gets to go get tied up in the other room. No one beats up on him, or touches him any other way. I promise. Just show us you’ll cooperate.”

Dick can’t think of a way out. If it was just him, if no one else was here for these men to hurt— But Gar isn’t just a weak point, he’s a hero in his own right, and— And maybe, if he’s tied up in the other room, with only a few men watching him, he can escape and bring backup.

So Dick opens his mouth.

Gar moans in despair. All it does is remind Dick of his audience, captive and otherwise. The men all with their eyes trained on him, salivating for their turns. And Gar, held down just a few feet away.

The man keeps the gun still. “Go on,” he says. “I know you know how, slut.”

Somehow, in the mess of this fucked up situation, the word hurts. It tears a little hole in whatever armor he was using to not freak out, and tears prick at his eyes. But he leans forward as much as he can and takes the tip of the gun between his lips.

It’s really nothing like a cock at all. It’s hard and metal and tastes bad in a different way.

“Let his head go,” the man orders. “I want to see all his charms.”

The hand releases Dick’s hair. A headache immediately springs up where his hair was pulled so tight for so long. He bobs down the barrel. It’s dry and uncomfortable and jars his teeth painfully when they click against it. He uses his tongue to spread saliva onto the gun, pulls back and bobs down again.

“Oh, shit,” someone says. “You weren’t fucking kidding.”

“What?” says the man. “He was made for this? Or he’s a slut?”

“He’s definitely done this before,” one of the men behind Dick chimes in.

Dick swallows nervously and almost chokes, but doesn’t. Then the man shoves the rest of the gun down his throat until the trigger guard dents his bottom lip, and Dick does choke. A hand suddenly grabs the back of his neck and keeps him from pulling back or turning away. He gags again and then forces himself to breathe, his chest heaving with the motion.

“Cockslut,” the man says.

There’s a click. Gar yells, and Dick has the muddled thought that they better not be doing anything to him, when he realizes—that was the safety.

Oh, yeah. The gun. In his mouth. Obviously it’s loaded.

“Fuck,” comes a heated whisper from one of the men watching.

“Hold his head,” the man orders. Hands anchor Dick in place. The gun slides from his mouth and then pushes back in. Then again, and again. Dick learns the rhythm and sucks in deep breaths when he can. He can taste blood from where the trigger guard split his lower lip.

“You won’t kill him, will you?” someone asks.

“What, worried you won’t get your cock in that?”

“You tell me you don’t want to fuck him. Jesus, look at him.”

The man starts fucking the gun into his mouth in harder, jerkier movements. Dick thinks, guns are dangerous. Accidents happen. His entire body is cold with fear as he rocks back and forth from the jarring rhythm. He gags more than once as the gun presses hard against the roof of his mouth or the back of his tongue, and tears escape out of the corners of his eyes.

“Shtop,” Gar moans. “Shtop i’, don’.”

Dick wishes he would shut up. Look away, close his ears. Pretend he doesn’t know what’s happening, for Dick’s sake.

The gun leaves his mouth. Dick shakes and coughs.

“Was that it?” the man says. “Or can you do better? For green kid.”

His tone makes it clear the answer he wants. Dick says, “I can do better.”

The man steps closer and angles the gun from his waist, holding it down from his hips like he would his own cock. Dick leans forward and can’t reach it. He glances up and finds no help from the steely eyes above him. He sticks out his tongue and strains out.

Finally the man takes a half-step forward and the gun rubs along his tongue. Dick opens his mouth around it and lets it fill his throat. He drags his lips up and down the barrel, and he stops well before the trigger, but then the man says, “Further. I know you can. Further.” So Dick forces himself as far as he can go, farther, until he splits his lip against the trigger guard again, shaking.

“Damn.” The man suddenly rips the gun away. Dick blinks his wet eyes open and he’s staring straight at the tent in the man’s pants. “One hell of a mouth on you.”

“Really is a cockslut,” comes a murmur that Dick barely hears over his thundering pulse and harsh breathing.

“All right,” says the man. “You earned a little privacy, baby. You two, get the green kid outta here.”

No one moves for a second. Dick holds his breath, hoping that he did enough.

“I’ll rotate you guys out, okay? Trust me, no one’s gonna miss out on fucking Nightwing.”

Right.

The two men haul Gar to his feet and drag him out of the room. He doesn’t fight them much, all things considered. Dick hasn’t been doing much fighting for the past half hour either.

Dick thinks about how capable Gar is, and how backup isn’t even that far away, as soon as Gar can get the location out.

The rest of the men throw him back onto his stomach. Someone sits on his shoulder blades, and at least two other people start ripping his suit the rest of the way off.

“I can’t decide if I want him first or last,” says the man. “Oh, honey, you know what? I think I could have it both ways.”


End file.
